Under my umbrella
by smallheart
Summary: It's funny how things start with hope and end with sorrow. Yet, I watch. I watch you disappear with her next to you, clinging to your arm. Away from the rain. Under the umbrella that matches your hair. Under the umbrella which was mine, his, hers.


I'm feeling angsty today. People who review get cookies! (Ok, no, but you get to do a good deed!)  
**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing but my umbrella.

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I can remember how fast it ended, how fast it started, how much it seemed like a gust of fast, cold, icy wind. Like the quick motion of emptying a cup of water. Like how sound is carried away by the wind when you scream from a cliff. Like how the precious seconds on a clock tick by and you want nothing more than to grab the arms and hold them down, just so that you can make that moment never end.

It's funny how things start with hope and end in sorrow. Like when you sweep the crowd, looking for someone and I, standing in the crowd just like any other person with my heart going into nervous spasms because I could have sworn that your gaze lingered on me for perhaps, a nanosecond. Of course it didn't; maybe it had, but only because of my hair. You know it's only because of my hair.

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You could swear silently under you breath and I could interpret it as a silent confession of love. You could sit next to me because there simply is just no other choice and I could attempt to read so deeply into it that the next step would be marriage. You could twirl your pen and bend down to do your work and I would convince myself that I had telekinesis and swear (cross my heart) that you were thinking of me instead of Math.

And when you leaned over and asked me if you could borrow my eraser, I was ready to give it to you, even send it over in a box tied with lace ribbons.

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The first time you spoke to me, I didn't know what to say. I had dreamt of this, practiced in my head, but my tongue was tied from the time your head turned to me and my heart felt ready to bungee jump. For the first time in my life, I felt something crack in my chest when you, discouraged by my lack of response, turned to speak to the pretty girl on the other side.

When we finally, truly, began a conversation, three months had passed by, like water in a fast moving river. From then on, you said hi, acknowledged my presence, and from then on, I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss of your eyes.

You knew me. That was enough. _You knew me._

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We were walking home in the rain, sharing my umbrella when you told me that you had the most insane crush on her. My skeleton felt fit to crumble into ash, but I was holding the umbrella, and your hair was so perfect that I couldn't bear to ruin it. I turned the corners of my lips up as far as they could go and passed you my blue umbrella (it matched your hair) and ran after telling you to keep it; I was going to make a break for my house from here, I liked the rain. You accepted the lame excuse. You didn't come after me.

I ran with my soles pounding the floor and the splash each step took sounded like thunder. The needles of rain that scattered from the impact of hitting my head were nothing compared to the spear that was stuck in my heart. I dragged myself into the house, locked myself in my room with the air con on high, then screamed and cried until my throat was hoarse and my eyes were dry. The worst thing that could ever happen, I swore. Nothing was going to bring me down like this again. I developed the worst flu a human could get, and stayed home for a week. When I returned, you and she were joined at the hip. When it rained, you walked her home with the blue umbrella which matched the colour of your hair, the one which I said you could keep, the one which was mine. I was speechless.

What's wrong? You ask. What's wrong?

Everything.  
Anything.  
You.  
Her.

Me.

Nothing, I say.  
Because there was nothing to be said. Nothing.

You can tell me, you smile with your eyes. We're pals. I would understand.

You would? How could you? I could tell you what was on my mind, but would you truly, **truly** comprehend if I did?  
Would you be able to comprehend the could-have-beens which still cling rebelliously to my mind, to my heart, to my very soul? The pain of gaining and losing, the betrayal when nothing had been betrayed, the loss of something that was never, and would never be mine?

Maybe, Perhaps, Not.

And so I say nothing.  
Nothing. Because there is nothing to be said.

And then, you hear a call. You turn. You smile so radiantly, it hurts my eyes. You jog over. You put your arm around her. You walk to the door. You see the rain. You open the umbrella. You walk out, sheltered. You leave. You get smaller and smaller. You disappear.

You never look back, because there is no need to.

I watch. I watch you disappear. I watch you disappear with her next to you, clinging to your arm. Away from the rain. Under the umbrella that matches your hair. Under the umbrella which was mine, his, hers.

I watch as you leave without turning back.

I watch as I feel the empty slot of the side pocket of my bag.

I watch the rain hit the floor.

I watch myself walk into the rain.


End file.
